Page 90 of Riot

“So moody.” I laugh. “Came to ask if I can grab a couple of prospects to watch over Lace and Halo until this crazy ass shit in Chicago dies down.”

He frowns. “You worried about it?”

Clearly, Cash had to tell the main committee members something. It’s not like it’s a secret what I used to do, more like the identity of my victims. The less anyone knows about any of them the better.

“Probably should be, since half the associates are droppin’ like flies.”

“Got Bandit and Dawg takin’ turns on the gate, aside from that, it’s business as usual. Club’s not involved.”

“No but I am. I don’t wanna bring my past here.”

“Cash said your handler is dead, so what’s the fuss about? Someone’s gettin’ revenge on a bunch of assholes in suits. Maybe they’re doin’ a better job of cleanin’ up than the Bratva are.”

He’s also got a point. I never really looked at it like that. “There just seems to be an awful lot comin’ out of the woodwork, and after all this time, it’s got me wonderin’ why.”

“No shit?—”

We both turn as Stella giggles, sizing up the cop at the door. “Well, well. I never really struck you as a man who ventures over this side of the tracks.”

Me and Tag both gape at the same time as we see Detective Cale Callaghan at the door, smiling like he owns the joint.What in the fuck?

He’s always hanging around trying to get one of us locked up or pin one of us to some crime we didn’t commit. It’s like he has a personal vendetta against the Rebels and I’ve no idea what we ever did to him. He’s a cocky little shit, too. Worked his way up the ranks fast because he’s clearly got brains, and the brawn. Though, if Harlem were here to see his sweet, nineteen year old daughter looking at him with those eyes, I think he’d have a little to say about it.

“It’s all part of the job…” He piques an eyebrow.

To my astonishment, Stella says, “Stella. Nice to meet you properly.” They fuckin’ shake hands.

“We’ve met before?” He frowns.

“Uh, I’ve seen you around.”

“Don’t tell me… You’re related to one of the NOLA Rebels?” It could just be me, but his voice changes several octaves.

She plays with the ends of her hair, shifting from one foot to the other. “You could say?—”

“What of it?” Tag barks, wiping his hands over his overalls. He grabs a rag on the way to the door and I follow behind. He glances at Stella. “Back to work.”

She pokes her tongue out. “That’s no way to talk in front of Detective Callaghan.”

“You want an ass whoopin’, girl? You’re not too old to get one.” Nope, Tag ain’t happy.

She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Not sure Luna would appreciate that.”

Tag balks. “I didn’t mean… never mind.” His head swings back to Callaghan. “The fuck you want?”

I roll my lips. No wonder Tag is the Sergeant at Arms. I mean, I don’t think we need to coat the man in powdered sugar, but going in with something a little more subtle like ‘what’s up’ may have been the easier route.

Callaghan looks at us sternly, the trace of any smile long gone. “Lookin’ for Harlem.”

“Oh.” Stella holds up a finger. “He’s sick.”

“And you know him because he’s…?”

“He’s what?” she sing-songs.

Holy shit. She’s flirting big time.

“Related to you?” He sounds almost disgusted at the idea.

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